


The Art Of Being Succubi

by Eirationall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, Female Harry Potter, Genderswap, Mind Break, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Submission, Succubi & Incubi, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 19:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17883917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eirationall/pseuds/Eirationall
Summary: To wake up in the arms of a murderer, torturer and enemy is a terrifying thought. Yet, when Amaryllis Potter awakes in the arms of one of her most hated enemies, she feels nothing but calm. All she wants to know is why.





	The Art Of Being Succubi

Amaryllis blinks, eyes unseeing and bleary. She instinctively reaches for her glasses, but her arm is restrained. Her hands are bound together behind her. Her sides aching, stone proving a harsh material to awake on. She feels a hand press against her head and stroke her hair. She automatically leans into the touch, needing more of the soothing feeling that fills her body. The hand doesn't seem to mind, continuing on with its gentle stroking. Amaryllis realizes that her head rests on a thigh, her ear pressed down against the soft material of a robe.

A soft humming whispers into her left ear and it too sooths her mind. An old nursery rhyme, one she hadn’t heard in a long time, one she had no memory of ever hearing sung before.

 

“ _Following the trail of ol’ Morey Hale,_

_Muddy children swinging from the gales,_

_Up in the trees, a quiver in the knees,_

_Following the trail of ol’ Morey Hale”_

 

The words brought her back to even blurrier scenes, cherry and sea-foam and ink and charcoal. Her nose was filled with the scent of burnt wood and spices, masking memories of candied apples and lilies. Amaryllis’ eyes slipped shut, yet the blurry visions stayed, a broad smile, a melodical laugh contrasting a harsh cackle and a manic grin.

 

_“Into the forests, away from the fortress,_

_The wolves do howl, and the bats do scowl,_

_The waters are singing, the hooves are beating,_

_Away from the fortress, into the forests.”_

 

_“A bluebell ablaze, a sing-song’d phrase—”_

 

“W-who?” Amaryllis forced out of her parched throat. She recognized the voice, she knew she did. But it was wrong, soft where it should have been harsh, calm when it should have been enraged. The hand stroking her hair paused for a moment before continuing in its ministrations. All was silent for a few moments, the words lingering in the air. Amaryllis worked up the energy to speak once more, but she was pre-empted.

“Everything is going to be alright, my sweet Amaryllis.” The voice was husky, but not harsh. The voice, clear now, struck through her. She knew the voice well, its cadence haunting her dreams for months on end. Yet not now. She stiffened in the woman’s lap, but otherwise showed no outside indication of any terror. The hand stroking her hair was joined by another hand, this one lightly tracing the outline of her left arm. “Good girl.”

The faint praise, despite everything, sent her head spinning. Her head felt heavy and for a moment, all her thoughts, her memories, blurred together. Amaryllis pressed her head hard against the woman’s thighs, hoping to stabilize her spinning thoughts. The hand on her head gently rubbed her temples, giving her the shortest reprieve. Unbidden, a single question stuck in her mind. She braved the question, putting speech behind it. “Bellatrix?”

The woman continued humming, stroking her hair. Amaryllis wondered if the woman had even heard her quiet words. A trio of sharp nails sent tingles up her spine as they lightly ran across the exposed flesh of her stomach. The hand on her head was similarly clawed, yet the pressure on her body was soothing, rather than painful. The woman stopped humming before clearing her throat to speak. “Yes, pet?”

With two simple words, the breath was forced out from her chest. She stilled completely, terror flooding her being. The hands did not stop their ministrations, the phantom touches of the woman’s nails feeling as if they had cut across her flesh. Here breathing came in short, rapid bursts, in and out. Amaryllis hyperventilated until a lone hand pressed against her chest, just above her breasts, and slowed her breathing, physically stopping her from breathing too quickly. “Calm, my sweet Amaryllis. Everything is going to be okay.”

Amaryllis knew she should be worrying but the soothing voice and the faint lingering of the nursery rhyme in her ears subdued her mind. Unbidden, memories of a class where they were taught about magically imbuing lyrics with emotions. Hermione telling her that many mothers sung these sorts of songs to their children. A stray thought wondering if her mother had ever done it for her. Sirius had confirmed it for her. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes as she was reminded of her lost father-figure. Self-hatred bubbled at the back of her mind. Knowing that in this moment she was now enjoying the contact of the person who had stolen her father-figure from her.

The hand continues stroking her hair and the woman pre-empts any attempts to break free with her words. “I never meant to kill him.” The woman, Bellatrix, sighs. The hand on her stomach stills and the nails dig into the flesh. Lightly, but enough to sting. A quiet gasp escapes Amaryllis’ throat. “Family is important to us blacks, my dear Amaryllis. There was no way for us to know that the veil would kill him.” The nails pull away only to find another stretch of flesh and press down once more.

“I looked into it, I was horrified when he died, died at my hand. Rookwood had felt no need to mention the veil, but afterwards I extracted every last detail.” The venom that Amaryllis associated with the dark-haired Death Eater returned to her voice. Amaryllis let out a heaving breath after Bellatrix’s admittance. She didn’t understand herself, but she felt infinitely more comfortable knowing that there was someone else to blame. She braved a deep breath to speak to the woman who held her in such a vulnerable position.

“Did you kill him?” The words left her mouth, unbidden. Amaryllis did not know the words that would leave her mouth, save for the fact that they would be dark. She heard and felt the full-bodied grin of the woman above her, nails scratching at her side. A throaty chuckle escaped Bellatrix’s lips. “Oh no, my dear Amaryllis. He will not be given that gift until he has paid for his actions.”

Amaryllis felt Bellatrix shift her body such that she was lying on her back with her head facing the ceiling. She blinked her eyes open, her vision blurry, but she could make out the vague details of her captor’s face. Pitch, curly, what she assumed to be hair. Stark white flesh, and crimsons what she assumed to be lips. What really caught her eyes were the smudges of amethyst where she knew she had once seen pewter. The probably-lips grinned and then moved. “Do you like them, pet?”

“I can’t… I can’t see.” She whispered, terrified. Her vision was bad, it was. It had never been this bad, however. She had always been able to make out details when she was this close. Bellatrix’s hand continued playing with her hair, pulling a hair out from in front of her eyes. The woman’s other hand played across Amaryllis’ stomach. A whispered ‘hm?’ preceded her words. “Ah, yes, darling Amaryllis. They will be like that for a little while. Once you get used to them, everything will be clear.”

“What did you do?” Amaryllis instinctively tried to reach for her eyes, despite the fact that they were still bound. Bellatrix rubbed lightly against Amaryllis’ temples. The woman bent over, her face lingering over Amaryllis’. “Close your eyes, pet.”

Amaryllis followed the instruction without hesitation, her eyes beginning to sting and her head to ache because of the distorted vision. Amaryllis felt a press of lips to her left eyelid, and then her right. Almost instantly the pain left her and with the absence of pain came overwhelming exhaustion. Bellatrix begun humming that old nursery rhyme once more, and it took shockingly little time for Amaryllis to fall asleep in the arms of her enemy.

* * *

Her sleep was restful, and she awoke in a lavish bed. Amaryllis sat up in the bed, making notice of the fine material that her nightdress was made of. Her eyesight was still poorly, though she was able to make out the details of her immediate surroundings to greater detail than she had been able to. She gingerly removed the covers, her hands now free. Amaryllis stood up from the bed her feet resting on marble stone floors. She gazed around the room, searching for the fireplace that warmed the stone so. Her eyes caught on a blurry flickering orange and she moved towards it, crouching in front of the fire.

The warm charms were almost definitely linked to the fireplace. She wondered idly if it was a Floo fireplace before remembering that she was in the captivity of her enemies. If only it was that easy. She knelt down in front of the fire. She felt eerily calm and could only assume that something had been done to her. Her enemies would not have given her such a nice room if they had at all thought that she would be able or willing to escape. The fire was warm, she raised her hands up to it and allowed them to warm up before placing them under her armpits and basking in the warmth. She’d find out what was going on eventually. For now, she didn’t mind enjoying the break.

The detail in which she could see the fire grew and grew as she sat. She knew that she they had done something to her eyes, Bellatrix had mentioned as such. She craned her neck to look around the room, not able to find anything that looked at all like a mirror. Her vision was much improved, even in these last few minutes. She could just make out that there was two doors from the room, one ajar and from the porcelain she could see, was clearly a bathroom. The other, she assumed would soon be the way she was re-introduced to her enemy once more.

That nursery rhyme played across her thoughts, knowing it well, too well, for someone who could only remember hearing once before Bellatrix sang it to her. Unbidden, the words gathered in her throat, picking up from the verse that Bellatrix had sung her to sleep to.

 

_“A bluebell ablaze, a sing-song’d phrase,_

_A half-dozen lies, a tear from their eyes_

_Their hands all bloodied, dirtied and muddied,_

_Rivers all hollowed, a few swallowed cries.”_

 

A knock interrupted her song. “Come in.” Amaryllis answered the unspoken question without taking her eyes of the fire which had begun to dance in tune with her song, still playing, as if the fire had begun to sing. The door opened and in stepped Bellatrix, though a much different woman than she had met in her fifth year of Hogwarts. The woman was younger than she should have been, yet still held on aura of age. Her hair was clean and well-kept, falling in ringlets. Her skin was clean and unblemished, but the starkest difference was the mauve eyes that had taken the place of her flint ones. Bellatrix smiled. “Do you like them?”

Amaryllis nodded, feeling her throat drying out very quickly at the beautiful woman in front of her. She could see the woman’s body at the bottom of her sight and drank it in eagerly. A lovely, under bust corset framed her waist, her large breasts held in place with an ebony material, the same one that formed the dress she wore. She could only just keep her eyes on the woman’s face, and she knew that something had to be going on with the woman. She had never been attracted to women before, and she doubted that it had changed for no reason. “Your eyes are the same, so I hope you do.”

A shocked look crept up Amaryllis’ face and she looked desperately to the woman, hoping to wordlessly convey her need to see them the proof. Bellatrix seemed to read her mind and conjured a mirror in her hand, which she handed to Amaryllis. Amaryllis shouldn’t have been shocked to see the violet gaze that met her own, yet she was. They eyes were beautiful and alien. They weren’t human. She felt like she could get lost in those eyes, and endless sea of mauve. The mirror disappeared from her hands and she looked up to Bellatrix, who had stepped close to her. Bellatrix gestured for Amaryllis to stand up, which she did.

Bellatrix sat down on the marble floors and pulled Amaryllis into her lap. The girl blushed, but quickly relaxed in the woman’s arms. Her short stature, a point of personal embarrassment for her long life had suddenly turned into a source of comfort. She tucked her chin into her neck, whilst tucking the back of her head into Bellatrix’s neck, the woman’s chin on the top of her head. “You are beautiful, dear Amaryllis.”

Amaryllis huffed a depreciating laugh. Her eyes wandered to the hands that were wrapped around her front, admiring the almost claw-like nails. She was at a loss for words, truthfully. She doubted that Bellatrix didn’t know that, but she wanted to fill the empty silence. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

Bellatrix hummed, one of her hands lightly scraping against the material of her nightgown. Amaryllis could feel the wicked sharp nails through the material, a material she just now realized was almost as thing as tissue paper. Amaryllis could feel the vibration from Bellatrix’s voice as she spoke. “You can ask any question you would like, pet. I vow to answer them to the best of my ability, within reason.”

Amaryllis scoured her thoughts for any definite, inquisitive question. She drew up a blank. Here, in the lap and arms of a woman who should have been her enemy, who had inadvertently caused the death of the only father-figure she had ever had, and she couldn’t think of a single question. She defaulted to the most basic thing she could think of. “What day is it?”

“The Fifteenth of August.” Amaryllis frowned. They’d had her, most likely, for over a month. Why? Amaryllis felt Bellatrix’s chin dig into her skull, though it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Bellatrix had a lot of hard edges, but she found them strangely comfortable. “It took you until two days ago to recover from the rituals.”

“Rituals?” Amaryllis couldn’t hold the words back, suddenly terrified that they had done something horrible to her. Clearly, they had played around with her body, changing her eyes. Though her eyesight was better that in no way indicated the potential damage that inflicted to her in other places. Bellatrix pulled her close and held her arms around Amaryllis’ body tightly. “It’s okay darling Amaryllis. No harm will ever come to you if I can stop it.”

She knew that, even if nothing had harmed her, explicitly, there was still something wrong with her. Something they must have changed about her. Simply the thought of Bellatrix calmed her, and the woman’s touch and voice were considerably stronger than those thoughts. Bellatrix had an influence over her, and she couldn’t even bring herself to care that her mind had been manipulated, because it didn’t feel wrong to her. It couldn’t feel righter, in all honesty. “Bellatrix? Why am I so comfortable? Why do I not want to leave?” She couldn’t even muster an annoyed or angry tone, simply a confused one.

Bellatrix hummed once more, and then chuckled. She adored that sound. It was a throaty laugh, deep and pulling. Like the laugh was a black-hole, and you, a tiny star, unable to do anything but be drawn in. “You don’t want to leave, pet, because you are _Mine_. I made you mine and I am not letting you go.” Bellatrix paused, resting her hand over Amaryllis’ core, drawing a gasp from the smaller girl. Amaryllis could feel the grin playing on Bellatrix’s lips, but could barely breath as the woman’s fingers rested over her most private parts.

“As for feeling calm, my darling, I thought you might prefer it. I didn’t want you to suffer the pain of the emotional trauma of the things that have happened to you over the last month, the volatile emotions you would have experienced under my care and lastly, the emotional toll you would have experienced as you learned of the many painful actions our enemies inflicted on you.” Bellatrix punctuated the end of her sentence by cupping the smaller girl’s vagina, the tips of her fingers settling on her ass and the heel of her palm settling over where her clit would be.

“Oh god,” Amaryllis whimpered. It felt far too good, too good to be natural. Her mind blanked as Bellatrix ground her palm into her labia majora. She moaned, quietly, wanting to let her pleasure be announced to the other woman. She surely already knew, knowing how wet she could feel she was. “ _Fuck_.”

Another throaty chuckle reverberated through her ears and skull as Bellatrix pulled her hand away. Amaryllis’ hips chased the hand, though only enough to get a small measure of contact. Amaryllis couldn’t hold back the whine that escaped her throat. Bellatrix tutted at her and that only made her whine more. “Pet, be a good girl and use your words.”

These words, Amaryllis could hold back. She wanted it so badly, that touch was heavenly. She wanted to play with herself, but something in her told her that if she tried to touch herself, it wouldn’t come even close the feeling of Bellatrix’s hands. She whined, this time in her head. No, she wouldn’t beg for Bellatrix to touch her. She had more important things to say. “O-our, enemies? What do you mean _our_ enemies?”

“Exactly what I said, pretty girl. Our enemies. Enemies that you and I share.” Instead of the hands returning to her vagina, a lone hand sneaked up to her chest to cup her left breast, while the other ran its nails across her stomach, leaving very faint red lines. Amaryllis knew that Bellatrix was doing it intentionally to tease her, to make her want to beg for her touch. But she held her head high and focused on the words, far more important than the burning ache in her core. “W-who are they?”

Bellatrix hums, letting the words settle, and Amaryllis has the feeling that knowing who ‘their’ enemies are is one of those things that the forced calm is for. She shifts a hand to the arm cupping her breast and holds the older woman’s wrist, squeezing reassuringly, though she has no idea why. She shouldn’t be thinking about keeping the woman who, for all she knows, kidnapped, drugged and experimented on her. In fact, that’s exactly what the woman has done. She’s admitted to it, even if some of it was implicit rather than explicit. Bellatrix’s voice is almost shaken when she speaks. “Albus Dumbledore and—” Bellatrix pauses, sucks in a large breath before forcing out, “—The Dark Lord. And most everyone else.”

“ _Everyone_?” Amaryllis’ thoughts started racing. The Dark Lord, Voldemort, had always been her enemy but why was he Bellatrix’s enemy? Was it because of her? And why would Dumbledore be Amaryllis’ enemy? What could Bellatrix possible have done to her that would make Dumbledore her enemy? What did Bellatrix mean by _everyone_? Bellatrix returned the gesture of grip tightly around Amaryllis’ thigh, a reminder that she was there, that she would protect her. Bellatrix spoke, sombrely, the words heavy on her tongue and in the air. “The Dark Lord – and do call him that, hearing his name is painful to me – is our enemy because I chose family, chose _you_ over him, and because I left his cause. The only response to that is for the individual’s death. He is my enemy just as much as he is yours.”

Bellatrix’s left hand pinched lightly at Amaryllis’ nipple, whilst the other hand teased her inner thighs. Amaryllis moaned and then glared at the fire as a substitute for glaring at the woman whose lap she was currently sat in. It was completely unfair of her to tease her like this. Especially when they were having a conversation that by all means should have been terrifying, if not for the forced calmness running through her veins. She nudged Bellatrix’s chin and the onyx haired woman managed to gather her words together. “As for essentially everyone else, that’s because of what we both are, my darling Amaryllis. What we are, we cannot exist in the world of witches and wizards. Perhaps we could survive among the muggles, but even then, we will have to be careful. We are to a one, alone in this world, with only each other to rely on.”

She barely believed the words and would not have believed them all if not for the regret in Bellatrix’s words. She truly loved the magical world, as did Amaryllis, and if Bellatrix’s words were true, it was no longer theirs to have. But, what, _what_ were they? What made them not compatible with the magical word? How had she even become one of whatever they were? She voiced her thoughts to Bellatrix and the older woman sighed. “It’s complicated, darling girl. The reason that Albus Dumbledore is our enemy is the same reason why you are the way you are now. The Dark Lord… The Dark Lord created Horcruxes, as you know. What you don’t know, my dear girl, is that you were one of them.”

“ _What?_ ” The words escaped her mouth without her permission, her mind stuck, struck, unable to think. She had been— _She had been a Horcrux_. Voldemort’s Horcrux. She, the Girl-Who-Lived-To-Die, had been a Horcrux. A Horcrux, who held the soul of her parent’s murderer, a mass murdering terrorist revolutionary who was responsible for the deaths of entire generations of witches and wizards. And his soul had been contained inside of her. Her neck snapped back, desperate for the reassuring gaze of the woman who held her so tightly. Their purple eyes met, and she felt a little bit of the worry go away. It wasn’t what she was right now. Bellatrix said that she _had been_ a Horcrux, not that she still was—

“He always meant for me to die.” Amaryllis whispered. That truth struck harder than anything else that had hit her tonight. Albus Dumbledore, the man who she had looked up to, saw as a grandfather, had always intended for her to die. How long had he known? Keeping silent about the fact that she was destined to die, at the hands of an insane despot. But wait, how— “How am I not still a Horcrux, now? You h-have to destroy the Horcrux to remove the soul.”

“For witches and wizards that is the only way to destroy a Horcrux, though there have been very few living Horcruxes. For certain creatures, however, that isn’t the only option. For myself, it is possible to extract a soul from a living creature. Normally that would leave a creature that was little more than a vessel for my will, something I have never felt the need to create.” As she spoke, Bellatrix continued to tease the younger girls hardened nipples and overly sensitive thighs. The more she touched the more desperate Amaryllis became for that contact to return to her aching pussy. “But with you, darling Amaryllis, since you were a Horcrux, you still have your soul intact. But as a consequence, you have become, even if it has been in an unusual way, a creature like me, a creature that I have influence over, as well.”

Bellatrix let the hand that was playing with Amaryllis’ thighs slide up to just below her stomach, resting against the skin so very close to her aching lips. Amaryllis bucked her hips, hoping to get just a little touch, but was just short of getting the touch she so desperately desired. She felt Bellatrix’s chin leave the top of her head and the nip of teeth at her earlobe. “Beg for it, pet.”

The words left her mouth without any thought. “Please, please touch me. Please touch me, Mistress.” The honorific didn’t even enter her mind until she said it, and her thoughts lingered, for a moment, on Bellatrix’s dominant comment about Amaryllis being _hers_. She felt herself getting more aroused simply at the thought. But whatever thoughts she had quickly disappeared as her nightgown disappeared from around her body and Bellatrix’s fingers spread her lips wide and traced the outline of her clitoris. A moan broke out from her throat and she embraces the feeling. Bellatrix’s fingers are like pure pleasure to her and she can’t get enough.

Amaryllis’ neck falls back, exposing the hollow of her throat to Bellatrix who takes the opportunity to bite, hard into the girl’s neck. Her sharp teeth pierce skin, yet all Amaryllis can feel is spikes of pleasure stabbing into her neck. No blood is taken, though Amaryllis can feel Bellatrix’s long, forked tongue playing on the skin between her teeth. Amaryllis can’t help but moan out once more as a finger runs up and down her labia and a thumb circles her clit. She can feel nails biting into her nipples, lightly, lightly, and wonders how the claws aren’t tearing at the skin of her pussy. Her eyes flick down, barely able to see her pussy, and she notices that the nails on Bellatrix’s left hand are shorter, like retractable claws

“Go ahead, pet, watch your Mistress play with your dripping wet pussy. Look how wet you are for your Mistress.” The words reverberate through her, her Mistress having barely removed her sharp teeth from her neck. Amaryllis can do nothing but say “Yes, Mistress.” And continue to watch the ministrations of her Mistress’ fingers. When her Mistress’ name had become her honorific, Amaryllis didn’t know, but she loved the feeling that submitting to her Mistress gave her. Her eyes focused on the wetness of her pussy, lips spread by two fingers as a thumb ran up and down her clit, painfully slowly, while another finger played with her inner lips, teasing it’s potential to slip inside her needy pussy. “Please Mistress, please.”

Her words, clear in their need go intentionally ignored by her Mistress. She needs her Mistress’ fingers inside of her. She knows her Mistress knows. Her Mistress has been inside her head, listens to all her thoughts, sucking them up, and she begs, silently, for her Mistress to do the same to her pussy, so empty without her fingers inside her, like her mind had been before her Mistress had taken her in as _hers_. But her Mistress wanted her to ask, to beg, to say it aloud so that she could be embarrassed in a way that made her burn with need. “Please, Mistress, please fuck my needy cunt. I need you inside me, Mistress, please.”

“Good girl.” Her Mistress praised, and a wave of pleasure rushed through her that reached its crescendo with her Mistress slipping her fingers inside her needy, desperate slut-cunt. The fingers were so long and so perfect and the slipped in and out of her so quickly, so hard, waves of pleasure shooting through her body and moans erupting from her, punctuated by bites from her Mistress’ teeth and mocking humiliating words, “You really are a desperate slut, aren’t you?” “That’s right, your needy slut-cunt needs to be filled with your Mistress.” “You’d do anything for an orgasm, wouldn’t you, pet?” “You love my teeth in your neck, don’t you, slut?”

At each comment Amaryllis, her name barely being clung to, nodded or whispered a quiet “Yes, Mistress.” Each affirmative answer sending pleasure through her body and a grin to her Mistress’ mouth. She started bucking her hips, meeting each and every one of her Mistress’ thrusts, her pussy so filled, her clit being toyed with, and occasionally, her Mistress pressed hard against something inside her that made her vision darken and her moans grow ever huskier. One pressing question, one she didn’t know, stayed constant through the ordeal. She needed to know, needed to know what her Mistress was, that she could do this to her. What they were. “M- _Mistress_?”

The words came out in a moan and she didn’t know if her Mistress would even deign to respond. She felt the teeth leave her neck, and lips press against the shell of her ear. Her Mistress had heard her, new she needed to know something. “Yes, slut-pet?”

“W-what are _you_?” She was losing her mind, she knew it. The pleasure was too much, for someone who had never experienced sex with such an experienced individual. Her Mistress nibbled her earlobe and plunged her fingers deep inside her, pressing hard against that thing inside of her, shooting too-much through her body, her clit being rubbed harshly and when her Mistress answered her, two whispered words, she came. “A succubus.”


End file.
